The Closet
by augiesannie
Summary: Maria and Captain von Trapp find themselves in a bit of a tight squeeze, the temperature's rising, and there's no relief in sight. One-shot. Please R&R!


The Closet

It was the tenth straight day of rain in Salzburg, and Maria thought she might go out of her mind. She joked with the children that she expected to see Noah's ark float by any day, but kept to herself the thought that if an ark did float by, she'd surely hop aboard and get as far away from the villa as possible. Only temporarily, of course. She loved her charges, really she did, but they were all getting on each other's nerves after ten straight days of being cooped up inside.

And her employer's foul mood didn't help things. His temper flared at the slightest provocation. The Captain had very little to entertain himself with, since Herr Detweiler and Baroness Schrader had been stranded in Salzburg on day three of the deluge, when the bridge to Aigen washed out.

Maria squirmed with regret when she thought back on the circumstances. Already driven mad by boredom, Captain von Trapp had planned to escort his houseguests into Salzburg that day, rain or no rain, but Maria begged him to stay behind for just a few more hours, to help Kurt with a model he was building. "You can join them in town after lunch," she'd reassured her employer. Maria tried not to think about the Captain's face when he hung up the phone after learning that his companions were comfortably ensconced at the Hotel Sacher while he was trapped on the other side of a washed out bridge with, as he put it, "seven untamed children and a barely civilized governess."

She tried to get him to spend time with the children, but after only a few minutes, he'd get restless and, muttering under his breath about a governess' duties, would disappear into his study. Maria wondered how he'd ever managed to stay focused enough to command dozens of men who were crammed into a submarine for weeks on end.

The truth was, Georg von Trapp was having _no_ trouble entertaining himself, but the way he was doing it was highly questionable and left him hopelessly agitated and yes, in a rotten temper. Because without Max and Elsa to distract him, what had started, weeks ago, as idle curiosity about the little governess was blossoming into an obsession. Oh, he'd noticed things before – those burning blue eyes, lush mouth, and a lithe body evident even underneath her billowing nightgowns. Up to now, though, he'd been so intent on keeping his curiosity about Fraulein Maria from triggering Elsa's formidable radar that he'd reined in his thoughts. With Elsa gone, his thoughts about his children's governess remained in dangerous territory night and day, whether he was asleep or awake.

Just before bedtime on the tenth day, Maria found that she had somehow lost track of her charges, all seven of them. They had simply vanished. She was tempted to retreat to her room and lose herself in a book – they couldn't be in _too much_ danger, not here in the house – but knowing that their father might be lurking, just looking for a chance to catch her in an irresponsible moment, she went looking for them.

Ten minutes later, having ruled out all the usual haunts, Maria climbed upstairs – perhaps they were waiting in her room? – pausing when she heard a giggle from the far end of the corridor, past her bedroom door. That first day, when Frau Schmidt showed her to her room, Maria had asked what lay at the end of the hall, and the housekeeper had answered, "Just the stairs to the third floor. Which is off limits to everyone except the Captain. The children know better than to go up there and I encourage you to follow their example."

Since then, she'd never had a reason to go past her own doorway, but now she did. Apparently the children, stir crazy after ten days inside, had climbed the forbidden staircase. Feeling like a character in a fairy tale, she made her way up the staircase and came upon a short, dimly lit landing filled with noise, activity and seven young von Trapps. They were apparently engaged in emptying a storage closet as quickly as they could, passing boxes and piles of clothing from hand to hand like a volunteer firefighting brigade. The landing was lined with the closet's contents.

"What are you doing up here?" Maria asked, trying hard to keep her temper under control.

"Liesl brought us up here," Kurt reported happily. "To show us Father's uniform! It's back here somewhere," and he disappeared into the closet.

"And look at these pictures," Brigitta crowed, raking her hands through a box full of photographs as though they were gold coins. "Mother, and Father as a boy! And clippings about Father in the war. "

"Are you supposed to be up here?" Maria said doubtfully. "And look at the mess you've made!"

"Oh, we're not supposed to be up here," said Marta, who was sporting a large picture hat that covered most of her face. "But Liesl said that-"

Maria swung around to face the eldest von Trapp. "Liesl. You should have known better. There could be a hundred reasons your Father doesn't want you up here. It could be unsafe. It could be simply a matter of…his privacy."

Liesl hung her head, ashamed, but Maria felt guilty too. She knew that these children were hungry to know more about a past they were cut off from, from their Father's heroic service to his country and, well, their mother's entire life. She couldn't blame them, really.

"Look," Maria took Liesl's hand in hers. "I know you meant well. But there's got to be a better way to get your father to talk to you about all of this. I'll talk to him, I will. But meanwhile, you go downstairs and start getting Marta and Gretl ready for bed. I'll clean up."

Maria could just have easily left Liesl to clean up and put the others to bed herself, of course. She knew perfectly well that she had an ulterior motive: she wanted to see that uniform!

"Go on, all of you. Quickly. Into bed and the last one asleep reads Chaucer to the others at lunch tomorrow," she ordered. Maria stood at the top of the stair case, watching them scamper away.

Absentmindedly, she plopped Marta's hat on her head and went to work, folding clothing, refilling boxes, and putting everything away in the storage closet. It was hard work, especially because the only light came from a small fixture over the landing; there was no lighting in the closet,making it difficult to see the shelves and hanging rods deep within its cavernous space. And there wasn't that much room to work in, either, since the entire floor space measured perhaps two meters square.

Maria was almost finished when she was momentarily startled by something warm and furry brushing up against her arm. After a terrified moment or two, she located the source and burst out laughing: she'd been manhandled by the sleeve of a fur coat. She pushed it aside, examining the items hanging next to it: some women's dresses, a feather boa, a silk blouse. She held her breath, almost certain what she'd find next – and sure enough, there it was. A wedding dress, made of tiers of hand-loomed lace, with an edging of seed pearls that must have been sewn on by hand. The dress was tiny, Maria realized. _She was so small, to bear so many children_, she thought. Her finger stroked the lace, rubbed it between her fingers, and then she slid her hand up into the sleeve as though she wanted to feel what it was like to wear such a dress.

And then Maria noticed something glinting golden, far in the back of the closet. She pushed the clothes away, and there was – it had to be – the Captain's uniform. Black wool, golden epaulets, gleaming buttons. No medals, of course, he probably had those tucked away somewhere else. It looked awfully large in that small space, but then again, he was a large man, an imposing figure. She smiled, remembering how intimidated she'd been when he'd first interrupted her in the ballroom. He certainly wasn't the rotund, squat, whiskered sea captain she'd expected, she thought, her cheeks flushing. Without thinking about it, she rested her left hand on the jacket's shoulder, while her right hand lifted the right sleeve into the air. As though at any moment, a waltz might begin. Although something was missing, she realized. His eyes. And that deep voice.

Suddenly, the closet door flew open with a loud bang. Maria's heart leapt with shock and fear.

"What are you doing there?" Captain von Trapp was standing just inside the entrance to the closet.

"Captain! I-I'm sorry…"

The truth was, he was curiously unconcerned. He wanted to be angry at the way she was invading his privacy; it would be a relief, actually, to have an excuse to be angry at her instead of – well, the other.

He was already in an unsettled mood, having realized just this evening that he hadn't been up on the third floor to visit this closet in a month or more. Until this summer, he'd visit this closet almost any night that he actually spent at the villa, and he felt vaguely guilty about the change, as though he was neglecting Agathe and the memory of their life together. Not that he'd forgotten Agathe, but she sat more easily in his heart; he could see her in Liesl's face or Louisa's curls or Brigitta's eyes. He had a guilty suspicion that he might have forgiven Agathe for dying, because now he had a reason to live. Seven of them.

"What are you doing here?" he repeated. "And take that hat off. _Now_. It belonged to my wife. Didn't anyone tell you that this area is off limits?"

"I was, Sir, but…" She was ready to concoct a story, to cover for the children, when she thought the better of it. For one thing, he sounded more annoyed than angry. Why, he'd actually referred directly to his wife! This might be the time for an object lesson, for her to make the Captain understand why his children were drawn to the closet.

"I am up here," she said, in a tone of hurt dignity, "because your children disobeyed orders and came up here when I had my back turned." As an afterthought, she swept the hat from her head.

"And is it not your responsibility to keep them out of trouble?"

"I cannot be with them every second, Captain, surely you understand that. Maybe you should ask yourself what drew them here? If you didn't hide away your family's past like a dirty secret, they wouldn't have had to come looking for it!"

His eyes narrowed at the challenge, and he moved toward her, relishing the chance to try and intimidate her until she cowered, the way she had that day in the ballroom. It didn't always work, of course, but a good debate with her was just the thing for his mood. "That is quite enough, Fraulein..."

"Hello? Is someone there?"

They froze at the sound of Frau Schmidt's voice calling from the bottom of the stairs.

"Shh," the Captain warned, putting a finger to his lips.

She looked at him quizzically, but in the dim light, he gave her a look as withering as any she'd ever received from him – eyebrows near the ceiling – so she shrugged her agreement. They stood in the closet, still as statues, listening to the housekeeper's slow tread as she climbed the stairs toward where they stood.

"Hm," they heard Frau Schmidt say, and before they knew it, she had pushed the door shut, leaving them in total darkness.

Maria was on the verge of calling out when she heard his soft warning, his breath warm against her ear. She hoped he didn't feel her shiver at his touch. "Not a word," he whispered. "Just give her a second to leave. She's locked us in, but I can get us out without any help."

After a minute, Maria spoke. "Why can't we just call for help-"

"No!" he hissed, emphatically. "And keep your voice down!"

"I don't see why, Captain," she whispered, as she heard Frau Schmidt descend the staircase. " We can't get out of here ourselves and there is a houseful of your servants downstairs, just waiting to do your bidding."

He sighed. "You can stop whispering. You obviously haven't learned much about domestic service in your time here. Do _you _consider yourself my servant? Because you certainly don't act like it. They are my employees, not my servants. And it takes very little for them to turn the most innocent incident into vile-"

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Fraulein," he said patiently, as though she were a young child, "you and I were alone in a very tight space. Unless I missed something, there's no chaperone in here with us. Anytime a young, attractive governess lives under the same roof as an unattached employer – or an attached one, come to that- rumors fly . Your, er, _status _has protected us from that , but you do not want to know what would happen if we were found in this closet together."

_That's why I sent to Nonnberg_, he continued silently, not wanting to share the entire story with her. _After the one I had to fight off when she visited my room in the middle of the night. She had to be bundled away with the help of my solicitor before she made unfounded accusations. I thought that Nonnberg Abbey would send me a crone. Instead I got you, and…_"

"Captain?" Maria took a moment to recover from being called "attractive" – she was flattered, but "beautiful" would have been better – but she noticed that the Captain seemed to be mumbling to himself.

Georg shook himself back to reality. He knew there was no real reason to panic, and this was, hands down, the best diversion he'd found since the rain began. "We are not calling for help. We'll get out of here with no trouble. I am a trained engineer, after all."

Maria, crowded toward the back of the closet against heavy furs and wools, was feeling quite lightheaded. Perhaps there was more air near the door? She moved in that direction, and ran straight into a warm, solid wall of flesh and muscle – the Captain, smelling agreeably of spices and whiskey and healthy exertion. She had never been this close to him before, and was reminded once again of that intimidating, larger-than-life man who had loomed over in in the ballroom doorway that first day. "I beg your pardon, Captain, I didn't realize you were standing there."

"Where else _would _ I be standing? There's not any space at all in here!" But Georg didn't make any move to get out of her way. After all, she had gotten herself into this mess! He turned his body a few degrees to the left, calculating the angle at which she'd brush up against him again if she tried to get near the door. Once strategically situated, his mind returned to practical matters.

"I can pick the lock. Just give me a hairpin."

"A hairpin, Captain? You think I have a hairpin? Have you looked at my hair?"

He _had _looked at her hair, actually, more times than he cared to remember, his fingers twitching with the desire to twine themselves in that pile of golden silk. Her hair always looked tousled, as though she'd just awakened from a deep sleep and could easily be coaxed into lingering…

"What does that mean, for heaven's sake?" he growled.

"Because if you looked at me, you'd know that my hair is very short, and practically styled, and I don't need hairpins."

He sighed. "Then I'll think of something else. Just give me a minute."

Maria tried to be quiet so he could think. It was awfully warm in the closet. She could barely breathe, and felt somehow as though the walls were closing in on her. A trickle of sweat rolled down her back and it felt like someone was sitting on her chest.

"Fraulein? I don't think I've ever heard you so quiet before. Are you all right?"

"Y-yes," she choked.

"You don't sound like it."

"The truth is," and she had to pause to gasp for air, "I have trouble in tight spaces. I get – panicky."

She waited for the Captain to say something clever and cutting, but instead, he said, gently, "Easy, Fraulein. Sit down. Put your head between your knees and breathe."

"What?"

"You need to sit down – I think there's a small stepstool somewhere back here – ouch! – here it is. Sit down." His hand fumbled in the darkness, brushing against the soft bare skin of her arm before he found her shoulder. Muttering an apology, he guided her downward onto the seat. She felt his hand on the back of her neck.

"Keep your head down. Between your knees. Breathe deeply," he said, soothingly, crouching next to her.

She tried to mumble her thanks, but between the panicky feelings and the welcome distraction of his palm on her neck, no words came out.

He chuckled. "You'd be surprised how many seasoned sailors can have a panic spell like this. Even if they've been underwater for weeks with no problem. Eventually, the tight spaces, the dim light, and the thought of water miles around in every direction, gets to them."

She shuddered. "Please don't talk like that."

His hand moved lower, tracing gentle circles on her back, as he pondered the shudder he'd felt under his hand, and wondered what it would be like to feel her shudder, not from fear, but from- well, anyway. Georg contented himself with a mischievous nudge at the ridge of her undergarments – _that ought to shake you up, Fraulein. _

Maria doubted that all of this was part of his standard treatment for the men under his command, but she didn't want to do anything to interrupt him, so she stayed silent. The only thing she could hear was the sound of her heart pounding in her chest.

He felt his self control dip dangerously. "Are you feeling better now?" he asked, rising to his feet, cultivating a tone of disingenuous concern.

She mourned the loss of the Captain's hand on her back, although she somehow could still feel his touch there, as though she had been branded. "Ah – what? Y- yes. Yes, thank you very much. I suppose you'd better get on with the escape?"

He cleared his throat. "I think there's a panel in the ceiling that opens out onto the roof. If I can push it outward…"

"How are you going to reach it?"

"I'll stand on that footstool, and then I just need something to push it open with, like an umbrella or a broom or – wait, I know just the thing." She heard him rustling around in the back of the closet. "The sword should still be back here."

"A sword?" Maria asked, alarmed. "Isn't that an awfully dangerous thing to keep around with children in the house?"

"Well," he said, "aside from the obvious response that it is your job, Fraulein, to keep them safe and away from places they shouldn't be, it's…" He seemed to be having trouble finishing his sentence, as though he was choking.

"Captain?"

"It's – ah – purely ceremonial. A baby could teethe on it. You didn't think that we conducted submarine warfare with swords, did you? It would be awfully difficult to reach the enemy through all that metal. Underwater."

Maria sat on the footstool, fuming quietly at his teasing, until she felt him draw close again.

"There we are! My sword. Would you mind holding onto it for a second? Hold it firmly so it doesn't flop around." For some reason, he sounded quite amused.

She couldn't quite tell what he was doing in the darkness, but she felt something brush up against her arm. "What are you doing?"

"Taking off my jacket, what do you think? It's hot as blazes in here and I have to climb up there…"

"Right. I'm wilting and you're taking your jacket off."

"If I leave my jacket on, Fraulein, will it make you cooler? And-" the words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself – "if you want to take something off, be my guest. It's so dark in here I'm not going to see anything."

"Absolutely not! Are you mad?"

Georg shrugged. "Have it your way. It must be well over thirty degrees in here."

She hesitated. "Here. Take the sword and turn around."

"What? But I told you I can't…"

"I don't care, Captain. Turn around."

Shaking his head, he turned away as he heard a rustling from her direction. His mind pleasantly reviewed the possibilities – had she unbuttoned her dress? Removed her stockings? He wondered if her garters were convent-appropriately plain, or whether she harbored a secret collection of…He was going mad in this hot, enclosed space, temptation pressing in on him from every corner.

"May I got on with the escape now, Fraulein? I'm going to need to stand on the stool, if you wouldn't mind."

Maria rose from her seat and, once again, collided with him. Off balance, she scrabbled for a handhold, and grabbed hard at a handful of his shirt, which was apparently completely unbuttoned. Her knuckles grazed warm skin and – _hair _–the shock was so great she let go. He caught her easily around the waist and set her back on her feet.

Georg had to bite back a laugh. He could almost _hear_ her blushing.

"Captain," she said unsteadily.

"Now what?'

"We're – we're not going to get out of here, are we?"

"Well, that's ridiculous, of course we will. Eventually," he added, with a wicked grin she couldn't see.

"No," Maria said fiercely, "we will be in here all night, and I'm quite certain there isn't enough air. Not for two of us."

"Well, if it comes to that, Fraulein, I will be a gentleman and let you have all the air, but I really don't think…"

"I don't care what you think! I'm going to call for help!"

He could just picture Franz's face framed in the doorway, and he could hear the gossip reverberating down the valley within minutes of their release. He didn't care for himself, of course – he was far past caring about things like that, and an escapade like this would likely only enhance his reputation in any event – but what about this young woman, so innocent and naïve?

"You will do no such thing! Sh!"

"Don't shh me, Captain. " She raised her voice.

He had to keep her quiet. That was his excuse, Georg told himself later. Or maybe he had just been driven so mad by the nearly constant contact with her body, the way her appealing scent was intensified by the heat, by the way her neck had felt so soft and pliant under his hand, the curve of her spine so enticing, that there was no excuse at all.

He grabbed her shoulders and kissed her.

In the darkness, his aim was off by an a few inches, so that his lips did not land squarely on hers at first, but that gave him an excuse to drag his mouth across her cheek before the main event. Still, it wasn't a long kiss, or a passionate one, at least not by his standards. And there was no doubt that her lips clung to his for a several sweet, long moments before she reared back and gasped.

"Captain!"

"It was an accident!"

"An accident? Captain, you seem to have confused _innocence _ with _stupidity. _That was no accident."

"Well, it kept you quiet, didn't it?" he groused, and she heard him step up onto the footstool and begin poking energetically at the ceiling.

Maria couldn't stop thinking about that kiss, from the moment she'd first felt the scape of his chin against her cheek, until his lips settled firmly on hers for what felt like hours, but still wasn't long enough. It probably _was_ an accident – she wasn't the kind of person who got kissed a lot, especially by titled naval heroes possessed of a wicked smile and dangerous eyes.

It was too bad that she hadn't known it was coming, or she might have paid a little more attention; Maria wanted to remember every detail of that kiss, so she could think it over later. She had been kissed before, of course, but it was nothing like what she'd just experienced, and she didn't expect to be kissed many more times in life, and certainly not once she returned to the Abbey.

She had a flash of inspiration. _Unless….no, I couldn't. I'm shocked that I even thought of it. Although he certainly isn't going to do it again of his own accord, not after I overreacted. _

"I- I really do think we ought to call for help, Captain!" She raised her voice a notch, but not enough to really attract attention. " Frau Schmidt?"

"Oh no you don't," Georg growled, swiftly stepping off the footstool and reaching for her. This time, he gently clapped a hand over her mouth.

_You weren't supposed to do that_, _you were supposed to kiss me_, she thought, and frustrated, she took a tiny nip at his thumb. He jerked away, not so much because she'd hurt him, but because he wasn't sure he could trust his reaction to those soft lips against his hand, and the little moist spot she'd left behind.

"You bit me! Why did you do that?"

"Why did you put your hand over my mouth? "

"I told you, to keep you quiet. I thought you preferred that to - Oh. O-ho. O-ho-ho. _That's_ what you're up to!"

"W-what?"

"You wanted me to kiss you again . That's why you started to call for help."

"That is not true and you know it."

"Prove it." he said, bringing his face close to hers. "I'll kiss you, and all you have to do is not kiss me back."

Georg had no intention of making it a fair fight. He took his time, allowing his hands to burrow into the silk of her hair, letting his thumbs caress the soft space behind her ears, pulling her face close to his, reveling in the way her breath came in ragged gasps against his cheek. He heard his own blood roaring in his ears. He knew it was foolish, what he was doing, but he couldn't stop himself. It was like being intoxicated, except that it was a thousand times better.

Even though the long moments of anticipation stoked her interest beyond endurance, when his mouth found hers at last, she tried her best not to kiss him back, at least for a second or two. But when she felt his tongue touch her mouth gently, she felt like it would be _rude_, somehow, not to at least acknowledge the gesture. And it didn't really matter, because her body betrayed her, seeking to attach itself to every available inch of his. For a man who had seemed so physically overpowering, it turned out that his body fit together with hers quite nicely! Up till now, she hadn't quite appreciated how kissing could be a whole-body experience. But in those few minutes, Maria learned quite a bit about kissing she hadn't known before.

She knew what they were doing was wrong, but that didn't bother her too much, because she couldn't believe it was really happening. _Well, apparently I've already kissed him back, what's the point in resisting? _she thought, dazedly, and so she kissed him back, enthusiastically, until she couldn't tell up from down.

Off balance, she staggered backward for a moment, expecting him to catch her as he had before. But instead, he followed her down to the floor, letting her crumple gently underneath him.

The temperature in the closet had risen dangerously.

Georg had learned quite a bit also. If the young woman who had haunted his dreams every night for weeks had ever been kissed before now, it was not by someone who knew what he was doing. But she was a fast learner. And he understood, now, that he would be in mortal danger, every day, until she was safely back in her convent again. Except that whatever the future held for her, he was also certain it was not behind the walls of Nonnberg Abbey.

For some time afterward, his mind went blank, at least until he heard a little moan. He hadn't meant to frighten her! Alarmed, he pulled his mouth from hers. "Maria," he rasped. "Are you…"

He felt her smile against his cheek and he knew why: instinctively, he had realized that "Fraulein" would have been ridiculous under the circumstances. She reached for his hand, gave it a reassuring squeeze and her mouth sought his again.

But with her body underneath him, kissing her was no longer enough. He was like an aroused schoolboy, incapable of restraint. He drew a questioning finger down her throat and beyond, and was rewarded by the discovery that she'd unbuttoned her dress against the heat. His mouth began to follow behind his finger.

A sharp knock at the door startled them both.

"Maria? Fraulein Maria?"

Something about that knock woke Georg's better side from wherever it had been hiding. He knew what would happen if they stayed in that closet any longer, and he knew from the little governess' response that she would offer no resistance.

"Maria? It's Frau Schmidt! Are you in there?"

"It's all right," he murmured to Maria, "just give me a second." He scrambled away from her and into the closet's depths.

Dazed, Maria struggled to her feet just as the door opened.

"Frau Schmidt!"

"Are you all right, dear?"

"Yes, just a bit – ah – rattled. Being locked in here. Alone. Er-by myself. What are you doing here? Did you hear – er - anything?"

"Liesl came to find me," explained the housekeeper. "She told me they'd been up here, against orders, and that you'd shooed them downstairs again, but that now you were nowhere to be found. I can't imagine how you got locked in there. It's odd, you know. I thought I heard something up here an hour ago, but when I came up to check, you didn't answer," she said, looking at Maria strangely.

Maria gathered her wits enough to muster a convincing shrug. "I might have been so far in back I didn't hear you."

"I suppose. It's funny," Frau Schmidt chuckled, "The Captain got caught in here once, and after that he installed a release inside the door in case it happened again. It's too bad you didn't know about it."

"D-did you say there's a release? Inside the closet? One that opens the door if you're l-locked in?" Maria stammered.

"Yes, right here," Frau Schmidt demonstrated. "You just push this little button, here on the doorframe. Ah, well. You look – disheveled. Come on downstairs and have a bath and get a good night's sleep."

"Y-yes, it was terribly warm in there. As you can see," Maria said, suddenly self conscious about her unbuttoned dress. "I'll be down in a minute or two, Frau Schmidt. Thank you for rescuing me!"

When the housekeeper had gone, Maria whispered, "You can come out now," and the Captain emerged from his hiding place and rose to his feet. With the door open they could see each other in the light from the hallway, for the first time since the whole unreal incident began, and they stood there, rumpled, speckled with grime and sweat, clothing disarrayed, and regarded each other warily.

"You knew!" she said, furiously. "You let us stay locked in there, even though I was _terrified_, when all the time…"

"I'd forgotten about that latch."

"Don't lie to me. You remember everyone and everything."

"I'm sorry. I behaved badly, I know that. I really meant what I said about not letting anyone discover us in there. That kind of talk would hurt you a lot more than it would hurt me."

Georg knew that didn't explain why he hadn't just released the two of them while they were alone, and he couldn't tell her the truth: that she'd been too tempting to resist in that dark space, and that he'd wanted to impress her, somehow; rescuing her with the help of a ceremonial sword seemed more likely to do the trick than simply releasing a latch.

"I could not have known that you had – uh- that particular fear. I knew we were in no danger, even if you didn't."

"In the future, you will kindly not make decisions about what will and won't upset me! I'm not one of the men under your command on a ship, you know!"

"Look," he said, contritely. "I know it's no excuse, but I have a tendency to get into mischief when I'm bored. I require a great deal of – of stimulation, and the last few days have been difficult. I was trying to have some fun, and I got carried away, and I'm-"

"Fun?" she hissed. "You call that fun?"

"I do. And moreover, Fraulein, it was fun for you too. Don't _you_ lie to _me_."

Georg found it difficult to look at her, not out of guilt, though there was that, but because he was afraid that it would take very little effort on either of their parts for her to end back up in his arms. Every time he let his eyes meet hers, she was staring, mesmerized, at his face, her lips parted. Her blue eyes betrayed anger and confusion, but he also saw an undeniable flicker of something else that he recognized: desire. Those eyes would be his undoing. And when he tried to look away from her face, the next place his eyes kept landing was the pink, glowing skin revealed by her unbuttoned dress.

Maria was, indeed doing her best to stare at his face, unblinking, carefully maintaining an impassive expression that hid the turmoil raging within. She couldn't stop thinking about what lay in the shadows behind his open shirt. She couldn't even imagine how she was going to go on with her life at the villa; she couldn't really imagine how she was going to do _anything_ except relive those kisses and yearn for the weight of his body on hers. But she also knew that Georg von Trapp had probably been kissing girls in closets before she was born, and there was no way she was going to let him know how deeply he had affected her.

She knew him well enough to know that a whole cascade of clever remarks was right on the tip of his – tongue. _Oh, dear, his tongue_. So when the Captain spoke again, the genuine emotion in his voice surprised her.

"I don't think I've ever done anything so disgraceful, Fraulein. I don't know what came over me. I have never- Although there is no apology I can offer equal to my offense, please tell me what I can do to, uh,.."

She cut him off, fighting to control the conversation , to keep her tone light. "That won't be necessary. I have lived in the real world, Captain, you know. These things happen, I suppose." She was proud of herself, the way she even forced a little laugh. "It was an adventure. I assume we'll keep this to ourselves. We'll just go back to the way things were before, no?"

He smiled weakly in return. "Very well. Shall we finish tidying up here?"

"Oh, you go ahead, sir. I'll be along in a minute. And Captain? Please, don't worry. It really wasn't such a big deal, after all, was it?"

He didn't answer her question. Instead, he stood, regarding her thoughtfully, for several very long moments, and then, without another word, he turned on his heel and walked down the stairs. In the set of his shoulders she saw a kind of defeat she'd never seen before.

Later that night, Maria stared at her face in the mirror for a long time. She didn't _look _any different. She examined her feelings and, regrettably, found only curiosity about what would have happened had they not been rescued, and disappointment that she'd never have a chance to find out. She didn't find the things a nun should have there: thoughts of sin, and confession, and repentance. Those feelings apparently belonged to a different Maria.

Captain von Trapp tried to talk to her about it again the next morning, but she waved him off again.

"I'm not one for regrets or guilt, Captain. Let's just put it behind us."

Shaken as he was, he couldn't suppress a smile. "With an attitude like that, I wonder how you're going to fit in at the Abbey." He paused. "I'm going to be honest with you," he added, carefully. "I am truly sorry about my behavior. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for it, no matter what you say. But I can't exactly, er, _regret_ what happened."

He was watching her like a predator stalking his prey. Truthfully, Maria felt better in a way, because she couldn't exactly wish it had never happened. But the reality was, he was going to go on with his life – baronesses and so on – and she was going to go back to Nonnberg, and that was that. Wasn't it?

"Captain. You asked me to tell you what could make it better. What would make it better for me is – please. Let's not talk about it any more."

It stopped raining the next day, but another two days passed before a temporary bridge could be put in place, bearing Herr Detweiler and Baroness Schrader back to the villa.

During that time, the Captain was obviously engaged in some kind of penance: he played the guitar for the children, endured a three-hour game of submarine under the dining room table with the younger ones, and practiced waltzing with Liesl and Louisa in the ballroom. Of course, Maria was grateful for the help, and happily astonished at this newly-revealed side of her employer, but she also was nervous: his behavior validated her fear that things could not ever go back to the way they were before, and this scared her somehow, even if things were _better_.

Maria was also having trouble sleeping or eating. Her thoughts were haunted by the memory of his skin under her hands, the weight of his body pressed against hers, and the image of him in his unbuttoned shirt. And she couldn't enjoy anything – not schnitzel or chocolate cake or strudel – without being reminded of the way he'd tasted, masculine but clean and deliciously intoxicating. She'd sneak a look at him and find his eyes on her. For heaven's sake! Once you had such intimate knowledge about someone, it didn't matter how stern his profile or impeccable his dress - how were you supposed to interact with him? Was this how Eve felt after she'd tasted the apple?

Georg wasn't faring much better. He knew that this young woman – he'd never think of her as a girl again - whose skin was like satin and who tasted like heaven, was never going to be a nun, and he wondered if she'd realized it yet. At moments, he found himself inexplicably elated, only to plunge into despair and self-disgust. For one thing, he had never before lusted after the help and he looked down on men who did; for most of his adult life, he'd had eyes for no one but his wife, and in the years before, women had flocked to him without his needing to search them out. The uneasy thought occurred to him that it wasn't the little governess' physical appeal, or even her intriguing personality, that bewitched him, that there was something else – he pushed the thought away.

Maria was not present for their the Captain's reunion with his houseguests, but she was drawn into the aftermath several days later. At last, they had a sunny day, and she was playing cards with Gretl on the terrace while the older children had their music lessons. Captain von Trapp, Herr Detweiler and Baroness Schrader returned from a walk along the lake and seated themselves at a nearby table while Miri served them tea.

Maria rose to escort Gretl away, but the Captain waved her back into her seat. "Stay, please. Don't let us disturb you."

But Maria _was _disturbed at the conversation's turn. She had learned that a governess' place was to be seen and not heard, but she didn't like it when people talked _about _her instead of _to_ her.

"Oh, Georg, how delightful it is to be back here again," began Baroness Schrader. " I could hardly bear it, wasting away in that hotel in Salzburg. I was so dreadfully bored, and in need of attention."

"Now, Elsa, that is not a very kind comment on my efforts to amuse you!" chuckled Herr Detweiler.

The Captain laughed.

"Tell me, Georg darling," the Baroness purred. "How _did_ you manage? I know how difficult it is to keep you out of trouble. How lucky you were to have Fraulein Maria to keep you entertained!" Maria felt the other woman's eyes on her. "Did you have sing-alongs from the hymnal? Bake cookies? Play dress-up?"

"It was all very wholesome, darling, absolutely," he said, but he didn't sound convincing, even to himself. He was familiar with Elsa's foolproof radar; _she _probably could tell _him _exactly what would have happened in that closet if Frau Schmidt had not knocked on the door. _ I am lost_, he thought. He was in the greatest trouble of his life for sure. He thought he could keep himself from behaving as dishonorably as he had that night on the third floor, but he knew Maria would be back in his arms again. He just didn't know the battle plan. Yet.

Maria couldn't resist sneaking a look at the Captain, only to see him looking back at her over the rim of his teacup. Could it be that a hectic hour in the dark with someone could make you able to read his mind? She knew he was giving her permission to break the rules, and she stepped over the boundary with gusto.

"It was a _very _stressful situation, being cooped up inside for so long. You're right about that, Baroness Schrader. But the Captain did a magnificent job keeping everyone's spirits up, distracting us from our troubles, as it were. You'd be surprised how much trouble I can get into, but the Captain? He kept all of us in line. Even me."

She turned back toward Gretl so they couldn't see her cheeks flaming as she let a final bubble of pride, desire, amusement, regret and indignation burst from her mouth.

"Yes, the Captain _definitely_ rose to the occasion."

Behind her, Maria heard the sound of a teacup crashing to the ground.

Gretl's voice floated over the terrace. "Fraulein Maria? Do you have any hearts in your hand?"

**########**

**I wrote this story as a response to the "tight spaces" prompt on Proboards. it was hugely inspired by mquest's Gypsy Travelers, and lemacd made many helpful suggestions. I don't own the Sound of Music or anything about it!**


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